Lost Arrow

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I wrote this poem a few years ago. It comes to my mind from time to time — every time I see a parent who doesn’t seem to understand that kids don’t raise themselves — or at least not well. And it reminds me to give my own time to my own kids.

Lost Arrow

I remember well the day you handed me the child
You smiled complacently and gave me your weight

Now you are as light as a feather, and you still wonder why
But you neglected to follow the far reaching arm, didn’t you

No matter, I have done a good thing; though you can’t see it
Perhaps he will bring you salvation one day

I can still see his eyes wide staring up at me
He was ghastly open, and gallantly looking to be filled

I filled him with a wisdom that is beyond your conception
I gave him a knowledge that is too wondrous; he’ll never let go of it

I loved him with an unnatural love, naturally, since he was not mine
But I would have died for him from the very first day

He is happy now, and strong; a foundation for many futures
The change around him has already begun

But you, even now, are in ruins; decaying
Perhaps he will bring you salvation one day

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